Articles from 1936
With the news that he was now dependent on checks from his family
the newly minted Duke of Windsor had to learn to cut coupons and bargain:
In the Vienna hotel where he gets a private haircut, he protested that $1.26 seemed a little steep for the brief use of an empty hotel room. The manager sliced the fee in half.
With an odd sense of foreboding, the very young Edward VIII wrote these words at the age of nine:
…And here he was, at the end of twenty months, a king out of a berth…sent away from his kingdom almost without a single protest from those who he had tried to aid.
I find great pleasure in my talks with the woman who first aroused me to a sense of my kingly duties.
She jokingly refers to herself as the instigator of my downfall.
The primary topic of the article pertains to some hot water that the Duke was stewing in at the time for having attended Catholic services; even as the ‘Former Defender of the Faith’, this was seen as very bad form.
Attached is an article from the pages of a 1936 issue of THE LITERARY DIGEST that reported on the concerns of British Prime Minister Baldwin in regards to the scandalous love affair between King Edward VIII and Mrs. Simpson:
Tradition vs. Love, Tory vs. Commoner, Baldwin vs. Nature
Here are a few editorial opinions concerning the bygone activities of one Dave Windsor authored by the assorted ink-stained wretches dwelling in both England and the United States.
Many felt with George Bernard Shaw that Edward quit, ‘simply and solely because he hates his job and has had enough of it.’
‘What’s the good of being Prince if I can’t do as I like?’ he protested as a youngster after riding his bicycle across his fathers geranium bed. Innumerable incidents supported the popular impression that as Prince of Wales he had not looked forward to kingship with pleasure. Once in a Paris club, he was asked by an American:
‘How shall I behave here?’
‘Like a human-being.’ The answer roused his quick smile, – but just then a Britisher came up, bowed from the waist.
‘How can I?’ Edward sighed.
At the end of the day, history will remember him simply as one of the most henpecked husband to ever walk the earth.
This is a very juicy, action-packed article written in the immediate aftermath of the abdication of Edward VIII.
The journalist detailed how the whole affair evolved at 10 Downing Street and in the parliament; the reaction across the empire. The writer also endeavored to introduce the readers to the two unknown heirs: George VI (1895 – 1952) and Elizabeth II (b. 1926).
Thus the ruler of the world’s greatest empire joined the shabby band of ex-kings – the wood-chopper of Doorn, Germany’s forgotten All Highest; Alfonso of Spain, who roams the Continent looking for pleasure; Ferdinand of Bulgaria, an old man doddering over his stamps; Prajadhipok of Siam, Haile Selassie of Ethiopia, Abdel Medjik of Turkey, and Amaah of Afghanistan.
At the end of the day, history will remember him simply as one of the most henpecked husband.
Ten days after a would-be assassin had leveled a gun at him in London, King Edward VIII was scheduled to return to the Western Front, where, as a gangling boyish staff captain, he narrowly missed death from a shell that wrecked his car and killed his chauffeur.
Few in Britain knew, at the time, of his repeated pleas to be allowed to forget his rank, lead the men over the top and, if fate so willed it, die for king and country.
Here is an article concerning the persecution of that Protestant faith so unique to American shores: the Jehovah’s Witnesses, a religion that numbered 50,000 world-wide in 1936. The attached article reported on the school expulsions of various assorted young followers for failing to show proper respect to the American flag on campus:
A year ago the first such case, in Pennsylvania, startled the newspapers. ‘If you kill me I won’t salute!’ quavered an eleven year-old schoolboy. He was expelled. Soon after, in Canonsburg, Pennsylvania, a teacher was was dismissed for refusing to honor ‘the flag of horror and hate.’
Elsa Schiaparelli (1890 – 1973), Paris’ leading fashion authority of the 1930s tells how to dress inexpensively and yet look smart as a star.:
Cheap jewelery should never be worn unless it happens to be something that you positively know suits you. Pearls, including cheap ones, are always in good taste.
Women can learn from men and improve their ‘chic’. A man wouldn’t think of wearing a tight shoe or one that didn’t harmonize with his suit.
This chill November morning the Cenotaph is surrounded by serried masses of men. Up and down Whitehall as far as one can see are thousands and thousands packed in so tightly they cannot move…Suddenly from St. James Park comes the sound of a gun. They used to say it was impossible for a British crowd to be quiet. That was before Armistice Day. For the hum of London dies at the sound of the gun…Somewhere in the distance a horse paws the ground and neighs. A flag flaps in the breeze. Never such a silence as this. A King and his people pause sixty seconds in solemn celebration for the dead. It is the Great Hush.
A 1930s fashion article which perfectly encapsulated some of the heady excitement that filled the air when a new crush-resistant, non-wrinkling, packable, ultra-fashionable velvet hit the market. The material was immediately swooped-up by the glam squad in far-off Hollywood; RKO chief costume designer Walter Plunkett pontificated:
Velvet is the epitome and symbol of elegance.
Not one to be upstaged, Travis Banton (1894 – 1958) Plunckett’s counterpart at Paramount Studios, chimed in declaring:
The flattery and refinement of velvet is supplied by no other material.
Anticipating the Springtime coronation of Edward VIII, thousands of yards of velvet had been manufactured for the occasion.
Click here to read about the woman who dictated many of the fabric restriction rules on the American home front.
